


Endure

by EmbryonicHarmonic



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Breaking, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Immolation, The vault, Torture, Violence, not saying I love you, the other Heaven's Ward is there too but Charibert is the obvious one, vague canon things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 19:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18998704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmbryonicHarmonic/pseuds/EmbryonicHarmonic
Summary: Aymeric is a strong man, he can endure whatever the Heaven's Ward does to him. He has to. He has to survive.But sometimes, strong men break.





	Endure

He tells himself he isn’t going to break. 

Even when the lash leaves tears on his formerly pristine skin, he tells himself he will not break. 

It is just physical pain. His mind is strong. He can endure. He will endure. No matter how many times they strike him, he does not even cry out. He doesn’t make a sound. There is only the crack of the whip on his body, and the rattling of the chains as he takes a step each time to steady himself. 

There are more of the Heaven’s Ward than there are of him, but he is stronger than them. He tells himself this when the whip stops, and the air around him grows cold. And it feels colder than ever now, his raw, beaten flesh exposed to the air. A few scars are nothing, he tells himself. The wounds will heal. Even if he’s sore for a little while, he will heal. That is all he needs to do. Endure, and heal. Just like Ishgard. He will endure, and he will heal. 

Pain is nothing. He can endure it. 

His arms are starting to tire, and he tugs on the chain above his head as if it will loosen and let him down. 

It does not. 

He can handle a broken rib, he tells himself as he feels his bones buckle with each punch. Each steel gauntlet leaves welts, leaves dark bruises on his body. And he does not say a word, save for the occasional gasp for air. Even when the blow buries itself deep in his chest, and he feels the air forced from his lungs. Even when he spits bile and gasps for air, he tells himself he will survive this. That he will endure. He has to. He is the Lord Commander. He has to be okay. He has to hold himself up. 

His legs are feeling weaker. His shoulders are feeling the strain of however many hours he has been down here. He stopped trying to count. All that has mattered is surviving. Of not saying a word. Not even when they taunt him. Not even when they dig a thumb into a bruise or a cracked bone. No word. No sound.

And for a while, they leave him. 

And for a while, he sinks. 

He breathes. He breathes because it’s all he can do. He has to survive this. He has to endure. He has to, there is no other option. He can’t die. If he dies, then… 

_Then he never got to say those three words._

He has a confession, but not one for the Heaven’s Ward. They will never find out. 

His body shakes now, and he is having a hard time keeping himself up. It’s hard to stay focused. It’s hard to stay awake. 

Something strikes him in the face. He feels his cheek start to swell, and his eye blackens almost immediately. He can’t keep it open very well. It hurts. It hurts and he wants to scream. He feels blood on his lips after the next hit, a split in the skin. 

_It’s too much._

No. No he has to endure. He can’t say anything. He can’t let them see any sort of weakness. He _can’t._

The air around him gets hot. Searing. He feels sick, and he feels dread. 

No, he feels afraid. 

Fire licks from the air around him, and he shakes. He isn’t sure he can handle this. The flames won’t purify him. The flames won’t do anything but wound him. Tear him asunder.

The flame crawls over his shoulder. Over his arm. Down his side. It eats at his skin and blinds him. 

He screams. 

He breaks. 

It echoes through the Vault. He begs for it to stop. To _stop_

The water that is thrown on him is freezing. He can’t feel his arm. All he smells is burning. He was burning. Smoke rises from one side of his body and he can’t stop screaming. His eyes screw shut, tightly. He doesn’t even know where the Ward is, he just screams. 

He doesn’t know when they find him. When they find him with clothes that cause him agony and each movement hurts. But he tells them that he’s fine, even with a black eye and a split lip. With blood staining his collar. 

He tells them he is fine, that they could not break him. 

He lies to me, and I know he is. He tells me his wounds will heal, but he will not let me touch him. 

Lucia says she will make him rest. We both can smell it, when I catch him when his legs finally fail him. I have burned enough bodies to know. 

He lies to me, he says he just needs to rest, but he is biting back the pain. And he can’t do it forever. 

All I can do is wait for him to tell me that he broke, and when he does, I will help build him back up. 

And with all his scars, all his wounds… I will love him.


End file.
